Pure fantasy. My thanks to my editor, Wicked Inside
I stepped off the elevator into the hotel lobby, still not sure where I was going. Due to airline schedules, I had an afternoon and evening to kill in Austin. The evening was no problem, since I was walking distance from Fifth Street, but even Fifth Street is a bit dead during daylight.
I noticed a woman sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs in the lobby. I stopped and studied her. At least as old as I am; dressed to kill, but not like a hooker; and sitting up attentively as if expecting someone. What the heck, I thought, why not practice my approach, even if it looked like a mission impossible.
At this point, I should mention that I have never been a lady-killer. I try, but success seems more like a random event at her discretion than anything I do or don't do. Clueless wouldn't be a bad description. After a motivational seminar, my latest approach was to simply expect that she would say yes, come to my place, and screw my brains out, and act accordingly. It had not yet happened, and would never happen again, but I get ahead of myself.
I dropped into an overstuffed chair next to her and said "Hello! You look like someone I've been waiting all my life to meet!" I know, cool, right?
She gave me a surprised look which dissolved into amusement, and shifted in her chair to lean toward me. She took an exaggerated look at a bejeweled watch on her wrist. "In which case, you're two minutes late!" she announced, still smiling.
"I'll just have to work that much harder to make it up to you." I replied, leaning toward her and doing everything in my power to hide my surprise and appear cool and collected.
"I'll hold you to that!" she said with a smirk.
There was suddenly dead space, and I wracked my brain for something to talk about and keep the conversation going. I'd never gotten this far this quickly before. I don't remember what I finally came up with, but she gave me a brief confused look, then a shrug, then stood up, unconsciously smoothing the front of her short skirt.
"No need to waste time on small talk," she said quietly, "let's just go on up to your room."
Internally, I worked desperately to suppress the shock that statement generated, and to smoothly stand up and offer her my arm, as opposed to bolting. We strode rather briskly across the lobby to the elevators. I was too busy staying cool to question what was happening. Her entire attitude seemed to exude anticipation. The elevator was empty, so once the elevator doors closed, to check and see if what I thought was happening was real, I pulled back gently on her arm. She turned smoothly and her lips met mine. She brushed my lips provocatively as we passed the second floor, and by the time the elevator slowed for the eighth floor, the kiss was deep, passionate, and mutual. It was also a full-body kiss. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and her pubic bone rubbed back and forth against my rising manhood. From that kiss, I assumed for the moment that she was not a professional.
As we turned back to the doors before they opened, her hand brushed the front of my pants and gave my cock a quick squeeze. She did a Mae West imitation: "Are you just happy to see me, or is that a Shillelagh in your pants?"
"Madame, I have never in my life been Irish!" I replied formally, trying to be humorous.
My head was spinning, and I took several deep breaths as we walked down the hall. I, of course, took three tries to get the card-key to work the door. As she walked in, I hurriedly hung the "Privacy" tag and then locked and latched everything I could find on the inside of the door. When I looked back at her, she seemed to have a brief look of disappointment, but when she met my eyes, she smiled and headed for the far side of the bed. I moved, as smoothly as possible in my very excited state, to the near side, and we folded the heavy spread in half, half again, then slid it off onto the floor at the foot. Next, the top sheet and light blanket were folded back, creating a King Size playground for what was coming.
She looked at me with her head tilted. "So, should I just go get comfortable, or would you like a strip tease, or do you prefer to unwrap your gifts yourself?" she asked teasingly. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just started around the bed toward her, keeping my eyes locked on hers. She met me halfway, and we embraced and kissed again. My hands explored her body, making note of all the clothing fasteners, and then I went to work Before the first kiss broke, I had opened her button-down-the-back blouse (who designs this stuff?), and her rear clasp bra. My hands explored the soft skin of her back. I nuzzled into the crook of her neck, inhaling her perfume, a complex mix of natural and man-made aromas.
For her part, she had my shirt out and pushed up my back. She stepped back a moment to pull it over my head, and then I pulled her blouse and bra down her arms, creating a tangled mass of clothing I tossed onto a nearby chair.
I had a moment of panic. "Do we need protection?" I asked. I think I have a couple condoms somewhere in my suitcase.
"Naw, I'm well protected, and I definitely prefer bareback."
I reached out and pulled her back to me. Her breasts were larger than average, and probably needed that bra most of the time. Now they were pressed against my chest, and the shock of skin-on-skin contact sent a shudder through my system. I pressed another deep kiss as I stroked her sides and the outside of her breasts. She shifted her hips and started working her hands between us, going after my belt. I shifted to help her, then found her arms in my way as I tried to get at the side zipper of her skirt. But we sorted it out.
By the time we broke that kiss, she had my slacks loose and I had her skirt loose. With one hand, she was pushing my pants down while the other reached into my boxers for my now raging manhood. I hadn't been this hard in years; it almost hurt! In the meantime, I was pushing her skirt down as I palmed her very nice, firm ass.
